by Adam Carter
“I should be so lucky.”
“You should?”
Arowana was frowning. It was a bad sign, since it meant Hawthorn had done something to annoy her again.
“What?” he asked.
“Can’t get you outta my head.”
“That’s … nice. Are you feeling all right?”
“Spinning around.”
“No you’re not.”
She looked at him with an expression that told him not only had he done something wrong, but she had been looking things up in that infuriating database again. “Kylie Minogue,” she said. “Whoa, she has a nice … Is that what’s important to you?”
“Is what what’s important to me?”
Arowana was looking behind her, which was odd because it seemed as though she was trying to look at her own backside. She snapped back to scowl at him. “You’re attracted to me because you think I’m the reincarnation of an Australian singer. I remind you of her and you’re only with me because when you’re with me, you can imagine that I am her.”
Hawthorn blinked. “Iris, you need to take a step back. I don’t think you’re the reincarnation of anyone, and that you’re actually getting angry over this tells me you need help.”
She relaxed slightly, although Hawthorn could see it was a façade. “I was joking,” she said dryly. “Obviously.” Then she turned around and stormed off.
There was no way in hell she had been joking and Hawthorn was worried. In fact, he had been worried about her for some time. She had been acting strangely even before they had been stranded on Valetudo. It was all well and good to laugh at how she had to be right all the time, of how she could have answers to practically everything just by blinking and scrolling through the information provided; but sometimes her link to reality was more tenuous than Hart’s.
When they got off Valetudo, he would have a talk with her, get her to admit she had a problem. No human being was ever meant to know so much and he was afraid it was doing some really bad things to her.
A bee flew in his face and he swatted it away. Paradise this underground world may have been, but every beautiful thing had a sting in the tail, and he was wary that the database was no different. He was also painfully aware that Iris Arowana was the only test subject to have survived the database insertion.
Walking after her, Hawthorn wished they had crashed down the trench in the first place. That way, they could have spent the past three months in comfort.
He noticed something, then, and it took him a few moments to realise what was out of place with it. There were broad-leaved grape plants rising above his head, producing delicious-looking fruit. As with all grape plants, the feelers were wrapped around whatever they could find in order for the plant to grow, and in this instance they had wrapped about canes stuck into the soil. There was a large amount of such plants, and Hawthorn also saw runner beans and kiwi fruit. On the ground, without support, grew blueberries and raspberries. He also saw a wide patch of strawberry plants, with the delicate fruit growing on carefully laid straw to prevent them rotting.
The straw and the canes could not have grown naturally. That meant someone down in the trench was growing food to survive.
Hurrying on, he caught up with Arowana and was about to share his discovery when he noticed she was gazing at something. Some distance ahead was a house. In some ways it resembled the cabin which had been destroyed by the dragon. It was formed of wood and stone, with a chimney from which rose faint wisps of smoke.
“Do you think your robot might have a house?” he asked. “We passed a lot of fruit growing as well.”
“I could take a guess at what’s going on,” Arowana replied, “but you know I don’t like to be wrong. Be ready for anything.”
They approached the house cautiously. There were windows, but they did not want to be seen to be peering through them, so instead crept towards the main entrance. The front door was ajar and as Hawthorn carefully pushed it, he found it did not creak. Looking to Arowana for confirmation, she nodded and he proceeded. The house inside was well-lit, for the sunlight freely entered the abode through various windows. There were no personal effects in the house, but the hallway was furnished with a cupboard. Hawthorn opened it and found it empty as well.
The scent of hot tea filled the hallway and they moved slowly towards the closest door. Here Hawthorn paused. Arowana nodded and together they charged in.
They ground to a halt and immediately felt awkward. The living-room was lightly furnished, with a rocking chair, table and a couple of cabinets. Sitting in chairs before the log fireplace, lit only so tea could be boiled over it, were two people. One was a woman of around sixty years. Her hair was turning grey, her glasses were large and round, and her clothes were patched and well-tended. The other woman was more familiar.
“Beth,” Hawthorn said. “You’re all right.”
“Hey, Gordon,” she said. “Iris. Are you two back together or are you still fighting? Only, I need to know how much I have to watch what I say.”
With a great bellow of laughter, Hawthorn encircled her in his arms. Arowana looked mildly irritated by Hart’s comments but Hawthorn hardly cared.
The other woman cleared her throat.
“Sorry,” Hawthorn said. “We just barged into your house. My name’s Gordon. This is Iris.”
“Charmed,” the woman said. “Elaine McAlister.”
“You live on a good part of Valetudo, Ms McAlister.”
“Do you know, before Beth came here, I wasn’t aware there was anyone else on this moon.”
“Fancy that,” Arowana said snidely. Hawthorn hoped she wasn’t becoming jealous of this new woman already. “And how precisely did Beth come here?”
That, Hawthorn reflected, was a good question. It also made him feel guilty about assuming the worst of Arowana.
“Do you know,” the woman replied, “I have no idea. Would you like some tea?”
“It’s good tea,” Hart said, her hands wrapped about her own mug.
“No,” Arowana said. “We don’t want any tea, thank you. Beth?”
“I was running,” Hart said. “I came across that CKR you were talking about, Iris. It attacked me and I ran away. I don’t remember much, but I guess I must have fallen down the trench. Anyway, I woke up here, in this house.”
“Any broken bones?” Arowana asked.
“No.”
“That was a long drop.”
“I was lucky.”
“Or you didn’t fall into the trench. Maybe the robot brought you here.”
Hart frowned. “Why would the robot have brought me here?”
Arowana stared at McAlister. “You tell me.”
“Let’s stop accusing everyone of everything,” Hawthorn cut in, “and be pleasant about all of this. We can fight later.”
“I second that,” McAlister said. “Please, take a seat. Are you sure I can’t tempt you with some tea?”
“No tea,” Arowana said curtly, all but instructing Hawthorn to refuse as well. He took it to mean she had already refused on his behalf as he sat. Arowana remained standing but did fold her arms.
“I found your young friend here,” McAlister said. “She wasn’t hurt, but she was lying in the field. Nothing was broken, so maybe you’re right: maybe she didn’t fall over the cliff. Perhaps the robot brought her down here and laid her gently on the grass, I don’t know. I was here at the time and only found her because I was out walking.”
“So you know about the robot?” Arowana asked accusingly.
“Oh yes. We’ve been here for around two years now.”
“You and the robot?”
“Me and my sister.”
“Your sister?” Hawthorn cut in and glowered at Arowana to silently tell her to stop attacking the woman. “Where’s your sister?”
“Out. She has a means of escaping the trench that I don’t have. She never takes me with her, wants me to stay here where it’s safe. Apparently, there’s a lot of harsh weather up the
re.”
“What’s your sister’s name?” Hawthorn asked. “We haven’t seen her.”
“Her name’s Ruby. You can’t miss her, so she’s probably been avoiding you. Right now, she’s hunting that robot. Perhaps she thought you came down with it. The robot arrived in a pod a short while ago and it’s proving something of a problem. It’s been hunting us, you see. It’s come to the house a few times, but I always manage to talk it out of attacking me. It wants to, I can see as much in its beady red eye. But robots shouldn’t attack people and I always confuse it.”
“How?”
“I give it puzzles, riddles. I throw logic in its face and it tries to work through all the conundrums.” She laughed. “I never give it the full riddle, you see, or make it an impossible question. The robot knows it should know the answer, knows it should be able to get that answer in nanoseconds, and it becomes infuriated that it doesn’t know. Then it wanders off, forgets all about me, you know. But it can’t go on forever. Sooner or later, it’s going to kill me. Which is why my sister’s hunting it.”
“Is your sister armed?” Hawthorn asked.
“Not as such, no. She’s also naked.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Sorry, I’m throwing out riddles again. I suppose I’m just used to doing it. Ruby turns into a dragon. It’s how she can escape the trench and I can’t.”
“A dragon?” Hawthorn and Arowana exchanged a look. “How exactly does your sister turn into a dragon?” he asked.
“An old curse, worship of dark gods and eating too much cheese before bedtime.” She smiled ruefully. “I have no idea. It’s just something she does. She doesn’t want me to know how she does it and I don’t need to.”
“We met your sister,” Arowana said. She sounded sad. “Sorry, I may have … hurt her.”
“Never mind. She heals pretty quickly.”
“Maybe not from what I did.”
The first trace of concern flashed across McAlister’s face. “Is the dragon dead?”
“No. She dropped us off down here, actually.”
McAlister was half out of her chair. “The dragon’s here? Right now?”
“No, she flew off again.”
The woman settled back. “Oh. Shame. Anyway, so long as that robot’s out there, we’re all at risk. Ruby has a way off this world but until that robot’s dealt with, we can’t leave.”
“A way off Valetudo?” Hawthorn asked. “That’s great.”
“Calm down,” Arowana said. “McAlister, you say you came here two years ago?”
“Yes.”
“And the robot only appeared recently?”
“Also yes.”
“Then, if you can only leave once the robot is dealt with, why did you hang around for it to arrive?”
“There are … complications. I don’t want to go into them. Needless to say, as soon as that robot is dead, we can leave. All of us. We’ll be happy to take you with us.”
Hart accepted more tea and Hawthorn was in two minds of what to think. Arowana motioned for him to join him in the hallway and he went with her.
“I don’t trust this woman for a moment,” she whispered.
“Me neither. But if she has a way off Valetudo, we don’t have to trust her. If we help the dragon destroy the robot, we get off this moon. Unless you’re feeling sorry for the robot now?”
“That robot tortured me. I’d gladly see it destroyed. I just have a problem doing whatever this woman wants us to do.”
“We’re scratching her back, that’s all. It just so happens her itch is the same itch we have. Come on, Iris, this is the best chance we’ve had since we got here.”
She nodded, but it was slow and painful. “Just keep an open mind, Gordon.”
“Always.” They returned to the living-room and Hawthorn said, “We’re going to go help Ruby. Beth, you should come with us.”
“Can’t I stay here?”
“No.”
“Can’t I make my own decisions?”
McAlister tutted. “Your friends don’t trust me, dear. It’s all right, I wouldn’t trust me, either. Strange woman living alone in a house which shouldn’t exist? They’d be mad to trust me. You go along with them, girl. Just be sure to come back when the robot’s dead. And for pity’s sake, don’t give it any leeway. That thing’s a monster. If you have to talk to it, spout nonsense and try to confuse it like I do.”
“We’ll bear that in mind,” Hawthorn said. “Beth, come on.”
Hart thanked her host for the tea and departed the house with the others. “I think you’re wrong about her,” she said once they were back in the fields.
“I hope so,” Hawthorn replied, “because she’s our best chance to get out of here and I would really much rather not be on her bad side. Now, we just have to figure out a way of getting back up to that hell we came from.”
It was, all things considered, a wholly unappealing task.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There was no clear way back up the cliff-face. It was unlikely the dragon would return to pick them up, even if it was the magically transformed sister of the strange woman in the house, which meant they had to figure out their own means of escape. Just what they were escaping into was another matter entirely, although the more thought Arowana put into their plans, the more she came to accept that she was looking forward to the three of them going after that robot and pounding its malfunctioning head in.
“Iris, you OK?” Hart asked.
Arowana had not realised she was daydreaming and she glanced over to see where Hawthorn was feeling along the sheer wall some distance away.
“I’m fine,” she said to Hart. “The birds are singing, the sun is shining and the grass is green. What more could I want?”
“You’re thinking about the robot, aren’t you?”
“Are you suddenly a psychiatrist?”
“No. But I know a thing or two about being tortured. It’s all right to feel angry. I wish I’d felt angry, all I felt was numb inside.”
“Just stop, please. I’m glad you’re on the mend, Beth, I really am, but I’m not your best friend all of a sudden just because we have something to bond over. If you want another woman to talk to, talk to Cassiel when we get back to the Glory. I don’t do girlie chats.”
“I’m just saying I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I don’t need to talk, and you don’t need to listen. Look at you, you’re sweating just talking to me now. I get that being friends with someone is a good way of working your way back to us, but I can’t deal with this right now. Go feel the walls with Gordon. Find us a way out of here.”
Hart walked off and Arowana felt a little bad but knew she would get over it. She watched Hart pass Hawthorn. He said something to her and she ignored him, her head down. He approached Arowana with confusion furrowing his brow. “What’s up with her?” he asked.
“Probably spent too long talking to people. Any luck scaling this wall?”
“Sure, if I was a lizard. Which I’m not. I get the feeling if there was an easy way, that McAlister woman would have already tried it.”
“Assuming she wants to leave.”
“Which means?”
“Aside from the obvious?”
“What obvious? That she’s evil?”
“No, the obvious would be that it’s nice down here and horrific up there. But now you mention it, yes I think she’s evil.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I don’t like her.”
“Wow, case closed.” He strained his neck to look skyward. “I think we should stick around until we evolve wings.”
“Is there anything around here we could use as rope?”
“No. How far up do you reckon that is?”
“Are you thinking of free-climbing it?”
“Unless you have a better idea.”
“I think anything’s better than that idea.”
“I don’t much like it myself, either, but we don
’t have many options.”
“Do you have any experience mountain-climbing?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll climb,” Arowana said. “I can look up what I need to, take everything slowly and get to the top safely.”
“I’m physically stronger.”
“And heavier.”
“It was my idea.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If you fell, it’d be my fault.”
“No, it would be my fault, since I’d be the one up there.”
“Iris, you’re doing it again.”
“What, being right or being annoying?”
“Don’t you understand they’re both the same thing?”
“Gordon, you have to learn to accept I’m better than you at almost everything.”
She regretted the words even as they left her mouth, for she could see Hawthorn was hurt. If they had been spoken in anger, it might have made things better, but Arowana had said them in such a matter-of-fact way it was as though she was reeling off statistics.
“Guys,” Hart said, thankfully breaking the tense silence, “I found something.”
The young woman was returning with something heaped in her arms. It looked very much like piles of metal. She dumped it all onto the ground as she reached them and sorted through it. “Iris, you said the robot fell into the trench? I think it sat down here repairing itself before it went back out.”
“That makes sense,” Arowana said. “You’ve found its spare parts?”
“Most of it’s damaged,” Hart said, looking over and discarding each piece of metal. “There’s no robotics here, just pieces of Borissa’s outer shell, which is good for us. Aha, here we go.”
She held a metal cylinder and rooted around for something else.
“Here,” Hawthorn said, producing a small set of tools compacted to the size of a wallet. He flicked through them until he found a miniature blowtorch.
Hart took it from him and began soldering the cylinder to another piece of metal. Sparks flew as she worked, but Hart did not flinch from them. This was Hart’s element. Sometimes a spark would splash against her naked skin but she did not react; knowing Hart, she saw them as love bites.